Wayfarer ripped out of warp following a slow approach, shields down.
Elias was already strapped into the cockpit.
Systems powered on.
Not looking for a fight.
Just ready for one.
A moon-like asteroid bloomed into view. Bronze and gold lattices wove across its surface, linking to large white pearl domes.
The Longblood Trade Colony.
The border to their system, behind it, dissolved into unknown static.
Hundreds of transports locked in slow vector lanes toward the crowned rock in the void. Each was stopped and scanned by white and gold patrol ships bearing scars and vibrant banners of different colors.
Soon, it was Wayfarer's turn.
An ornate ship double the size of Wayfarer sped towards it and halted in its approach. Too far for a scan, close enough for optics to identify it.
Its turrets began to glow in a faint emerald, fixing onto Wayfarer, or more precisely—the demon latched to her belly.
Alarms and sensors in Elias's cockpit flared to life as it recognized a familiar enemy. The frame's weapons display came up without being asked.
[WARNING: HOSTILE LOCK]
[WEAPONS: ONLINE]
[MAIN: 100MM RAILGUN Mk.V]
[SECONDARY: 30MM ROTARY DRIVER]
[EXT PAYLOAD: MK-III WARHEAD | 2]
[EXT PAYLOAD: WARPNET | 2]
[CM: FOG | 2]
"What the hell, Elias? Kill your targeting!" Mike panicked over the comms.
"It's the frame." Elias thumbed the manual targeting switch, shutting down the weapons of his reclaimed ship. The frame's fire controls went dark. The command lattice did not.
[SQUADRON: HULLBREAKER]
[LEAD FRAME: MONARCH]
[COMMAND AUTHORITY: ACTIVE]
[ASSIGNED WING: 24]
[SEARCHING…]
[ACTIVE SUBORDINATES: 0]
An authoritative voice filled the channel, "Valeborne to Wayfarer, the Raven is not permitted to dock. Only your transport may proceed to inspection."
"He's my escort and a licensed mercenary," Mike responded.
"I'm not allowing a herald of death near my colony. " The voice said, "This isn't a discussion. "
Before Mike could respond, Elias activated the comms. "This is Monarch, order confirmed. Leaving zone. " His voice, unbothered.
Monarch's airlock detached from Wayfarer with a deep clack.
Cold creeping back in.
Elias continued on a closed channel with Mike, "How long will you take?"
"Best case, twelve hours." Tasks stacked behind Mike's eyes. " Worst case twenty-four. You gonna be fine out here?"
"Understood. I'll be heading to a blackstation. I'll transmit the coordinates just in case."
"Alright, man. Play it safe. "
"Same to you," Elias said, already angling Monarch for a warp.
The frame shook as it lurched forward. Rough. Stars bled into streaks.
Elias knew the risks. The frame hadn't been maintained for longer than he'd been alive.
He also knew he didn't have twelve hours of air. Nine at best, with how well the scrubbers were keeping up. Elias leaned his head back and breathed slowly, controlled.
No wasted movements.
The station was six hours away. He listened to Monarch's generator hum. Dipping and ebbing in a rhythm that felt off.
He tried not to think about it. Until he couldn't help it.
A hand swiped across an auxiliary display cycling through logs and diagnostics till he reached the generator status.
Temps spiking unevenly.
Output sagging under load.
Voltage ripple outside tolerance.
It's probably a depleted core.
The waypoint alarm sounded, indicating arrival at the coordinates.
Monarch sputtered and fell out of warp space with a thud.
"Well, that will do it. "
Elias let out a broken chuckle, his torso aching. He reached for his chem doser, set the dial a few notches higher, and took a long pull.
There was no station. No planets. Just a pocket between stars.
"Nav's broken. Of course it is. "
[MINOR PRESSURE LOSS DETECTED]
He checked his air again.
Old seals loosened during a violent warp.
Pressure decay rate increasing slowly.
Air supply, ninety minutes left.
"And I've got a leak." His fist hit the console, softened. "Piece of shit. "
[COMMAND AUTHORITY: ACTIVE]
[ASSIGNED WING: 24]
[SEARCHING…]
Tired eyes flicked up toward the screen.
[ACTIVE SUBORDINATES: 1]
[ENGAGEMENT FLAG: ACTIVE]
Elias stared at the text for a few seconds.
Hands moved across displays. Eyes tracked coordinates. Confirming twice before adjusting the heading. One more jump.
[WARNING: GENERATOR OUTPUT
BELOW RECOMMENDED LEVELS.
CONTINUE? ]
Not much of a choice.
"Command, confirm."
Monarch shook violently and burst into warp.